


Dare To Dream

by Archangell



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Angels, Feelings Realization, Happy Ending, M/M, Mythical Beings & Creatures, NOTHING IS AS IT SEEMS, Tattoos, Wings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-21
Updated: 2019-03-13
Packaged: 2019-10-13 23:00:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17497025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Archangell/pseuds/Archangell
Summary: James's latest mission is the worst one he's ever been on. What will happen? Will he manage to complete it?Join him on his journey and see where it takes him...





	1. In The Beginning...

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Danger_Zone24](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Danger_Zone24/gifts).



> Thank you Danger_Zone24 for the lovely art prompt. It was so much fun writing this story.

 

The derelict wasteland was as vast and unforgiving as one would expect form such a place.

James gritted his teeth as he tried to navigate the rocky, sandy paths. Whilst he was thankful that Q-Branch had installed a 4-WD feature in his current Aston, it made no difference whatsoever to the bumpy ride.

This mission was getting on his nerves.

“Get the boffin, they said,” grumbled James, “It’d be easy as, they said.”

Basically Mi6 had found the location of a particular boffin they wanted to recruit and had decided that James would be the lucky one to do the recruiting in person. He didn’t understand why they couldn’t just email the person. Especially since nothing was going his way since the very moment he’d been given the mission.

Somehow all his gadgets had spontaneously decided to stop working properly. You’d be forgiven for thinking that this was a new record for James in the ‘breaking of gadgets' department, but he hadn’t even touched some of them and they were playing up. Everything from his watch and earpiece to the cars radio, which started playing a delightful mix of classical, techno and screamo music whenever it felt like it.

Even though he wanted to, James couldn’t ditch the radio like he’d done with all the other electronic stuff. Q-Branch seemed to think that welding the entire car together would stop him from somehow destroying it.

Seriously though, who did Q-Branch think they were dealing with?

James considered himself the king of being able to destroy the indestructible. Really, giving him a welded together car was a little insulting and most definitely a challenge.

A challenge he’d happily accept.

It probably wasn’t the best move career wise, but James really couldn’t care any less - he needed to have fun somehow.

Plus it helped Q-Branch come up with better and cooler toys he could play with, which in James’s opinion was well worth the constant threats of being fired the HR people loved sending him on the regular. Even with being completely off the grid in the middle of, well, who knows where, they seemed to be able to find him and deliver their message.

Shaking his head in despair, James gunned the engine, going over bumps way faster than what was necessary or safe.

Oh well, what was another travesty for Mi6’s Safety Committee and HR to chalk up against him. He fully expected another owl carrying a warning letter to turn up any minute.

If he lasted that long.

‘I’m really getting too old for this. Maybe it’s time to retire,’ James thought, like he did at some point on all of his missions.

Well, the ones he’d been on the last few years anyway.

He didn’t actually want to retire, as he much preferred to keep busy. Causing mischief and mayhem where ever he went was much too enticing. But he did dare to dream that maybe he’d find something else much more exciting to do.

But enough of the Mi6 mission mumbo jumbo and back to the task on hand, which was somehow stopping the car before it hit the massive dragon that was just casually sitting in the middle of the path like it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary.

Yep.

A dragon.

A legit real life dragon, like the ones you found in fairy tales or movies.

And it was in the middle of the bloody road.

Dragons couldn’t be real… could they?

‘It’s official. If this mission wasn’t already fucked it certainly is now,’ James thought. Either that or he’d finally lost his mind.

Really, what was he supposed to do with a dragon?

James wondered if they where the same as komodo dragons and if he should offer it his gun. Not that it probably needed it since it had what looked like a flamethrower attached to its side.

He knew he should’ve joined Tanner and Moneypenny when they went to watch the Jurassic World movies when they were released.

Then again those movies where about dinosaurs not dragons so he’d still be in the same boat, car actually, as he was, with no clue on how to proceed.

The dragon swooped up and grabbed the sides of the car in its claws and flew up into the air. Gripping the door handle, James peered out the window as the landscape rushed past him. It was a good thing he liked roller coasters and had an iron clad stomach, as the flight was anything but smooth.

Mi6 was not going to like this.

They already thought James made up most of his mission reports when he finally turned them in. James shrugged; right now he had bigger problems then what Mi6 thought.

To jump out or to not jump out, that was the current question.

For all his musings the only answer he was coming up with was 42, which was no help at all. Maybe he was asking the wrong question?

Regardless James made a mental note to always bring a towel on all future missions, even if it was escorting Mrs. Collins, his elderly neighbor, to get her shopping from the grocery store.

Not that a towel could help the Double-O at all when he was at the grocery store or when he was flying a billion feet in the air.

Well, maybe not a billion feet but it was pretty high up **.**

James definitely was regretting throwing away his parachute for a hot second as he peeked out the window. Then again there had been an unnecessary large amount of electronic things like a navigation system attached to it.

“Bloody Q-Branch and their love of electronics,” he growled.

Why Mi6 thought he needed a navigation system attached to a parachute, he had no idea. Honestly he’d only be using it to get from point A to point B, with point A being up in the sky and B being the ground.

Obviously.

James tried racking his brain but no great plans of action came forth.

With nothing better to do, he rolled down the window and stuck his head out, yelling, “Do you mind putting the car down?”

The dragon gave him a quick look and snorted.

“Please?”

Another quick look and snort.

James sighed and pulled his head back inside the car. It seemed like he’d just have to wait out the ride. Or flight, rather.

To his joy, the music started up again and was much louder then before.


	2. Hitting The Ground Running

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dragons, blood noses and a strange man. What more could you want? (James could definitely think up of a few things! :P)

James’ head crashed forward into the steering wheel as the car landed on the ground hard. 

“Bloody hell!” the Double-O shouted, “Thanks for the fantastic landing! 10 out of 10.”

It was nice of the boffins to leave out the air bags. He should really stop tuning out when they ere telling him the specs of the car… James chuckled. Stop tuning out! Unlikely!

Noticing there was blood dripping down his face, he sighed and tilted his head forward, pinching his nose to help stop the flow.

“Oh, great. Good one, James! Just ruin your last suit why don’t you!”

Ordinarily James wouldn’t be too upset about having a blood nose ruining yet another suit of his. But when he said that this one was his last suit, he meant it was his last suit. He had no spares at all.

It really was a joy being banned from all the suit shops in the world. You’d think anyone would be happy for the sales. Though to be fair James did churn through a hell of a lot of suits. And even he had to admit that he wouldn’t sell himself a suit, with the state they where in at the end of every mission. 

Figuring out a new way of acquiring new suits would have to wait till later, since James had more pressing issues, like dragons and noses that where bleeding for longer then necessary. 

Tap. 

Tap, tap, tap.

Slowly he lifted his head, coming face to face with the dragon. 

“Shoo!” James waved his free hand in a shooing motion.

The dragon shook it’s head and began tapping the windshield again.

Tap, tap.

Tap, tap, tap.

Tap.

“Seriously? SHOO!”

Moving to the drivers’ side of the car, the dragon started to tap on that window. 

Unsure of what else to do, James wound down the window. As soon as it was open enough the dragon stuck its head inside the car, scales scrapping up against the agent. 

James yelled in pain each time the dragon bumped him. Blasted nose! Blasted dragon!

Exiting the car the dragon stamped its feet.

“I have no idea what you want!” cursed James, still clutching his face. 

The dragon started to stamp its feet again in a type of beat. It repeated the beat over and over until the Double-O finally got that it was trying to communicate in Morse code.

“Mints? Why do you want mints? … Because you just do? … Whatever, let me see if I have one for you… The whole container? But why?” 

James scrambled around trying to find the tin of mints he remembered seeing, eventually locating them underneath the seat. A bit of yoga later and he managed to grab the tin. 

Quickly the agent threw them at the dragon. With a happy wag of its tail, the dragon flew up into the sky.

After waiting a good little while to make sure the dragon was definitely clear of the car, James hopped out. Balling his jacket up he pressed it to his nose and took in the crumbling, overgrown buildings. Everything looked identical, like someone had cut and pasted the same decaying building everywhere.

“What a dump. Who would willingly choose to live here?” he thought aloud.

A loud boom had him diving for cover under the nearest bush. The music from before began blasting over loud speakers. 

Covering his ears James got up, swearing. 

“It wouldn’t hurt to play something like, I dunno, Harry Styles instead of this crap?” he groaned.

The loud speakers boomed again before playing a song James assumed was sung by Harry Styles. 

He blamed Moneypenny for the odd music request. She’d been going on non-stop about the upcoming concert she was taking her niece to soon for the last three weeks. 

“Thanks!” he grumbled, “Now, how about you show me where you are?”

Receiving no answer to that, James dusted himself off and made sure his nose wasn’t bleeding anymore before making his way down the street once again, crumpled jacket in hand. 

After going round and round in circles for what seemed like hours, he decided to call it quits and slumped down onto the nearest bench. 

“Good lord...” he sighed, poking at the huge gashes in both trouser legs. His poor, poor suit.

“Good lord? I don’t think I’ve been called that before.”

Whirling up and around James raised his gun, coming face to face with a young man. Time stood still for a moment as neither dared to breathe or break eye contact. 

“What the hell?”

Slowly the young man raised his hands in surrender, looking pointedly at James’s gun. James hesitated before lowering it a touch, not completely trusting the other to be unarmed. 

“Who are you?”

“I could ask you the same thing, except I know who you are, Mr. Bond.”

“You make no sense,” frowned James. 

The man doubled over as he roared with laughter, “Oh, that’s a first! Make no sense indeed!”

James continued to frown. Really, who did this spotty young git think he was! There was something very, very strange about him. Not that James could pin point what exactly it was yet.

Finally the strange man stopped laughing and straightened up.

“Come on, I’ll pour you a glass of whisky before I send you on your way,” grinned the young man as he bumped shoulders with James before heading off.

Quietly James followed the other man down the road, trying to get a good look at him. 

He was around the same height as James. Though James suspected the younger man was a good few inches shorter, the floofy brown hair making up the remainder. The young man reminded the agent of the boffins back in Q-Branch. All of them in ugly colored cardigans, glasses and carrying mugs of tea and laptops everywhere they went.

Turning back, the boffin gave James a hard stare, “It’s not ugly.”

James returned the glare, “Can you read my thoughts or something?”

“No, but I can translate all the huffs and gruffs you're making. We can slow down if you want if your knee is troubling you.”

“My knee is fine.” 

“Yeah, ok, Mr. Tough Guy,” shrugged the young man, returning to his blistering pace.

“Are you going to tell me who you are?” James called as he tried to catch up. 

“All in good time, James. Seriously, have a little faith.”

The sound of the boffins’ laughter echoed down the now quite streets.


End file.
